


Saudade

by bucky_barnes481, Off_to_Neverland



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Feels, Grandpa Bucky, M/M, New Avengers, Nomad, Pain, Reincarnation, Stucky - Freeform, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, more tags to be added as we go along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-03 23:26:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12156945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bucky_barnes481/pseuds/bucky_barnes481, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Off_to_Neverland/pseuds/Off_to_Neverland
Summary: Bucky is to blame for the death of America's hero, Captain America. He is left to rebuild his life. 25 years later he is met with something he never expected. Could his Stevie be back in his life? Or is this just some cruel nightmare that he can't wake up from?





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea that was inspired by one of the many tragic images of Bucky holding the body of Steve Rogers.

Longing. 

Warmth ran up his fingers as his eyes slowly became clear again. The harsh eyes of the Winter Soldier began to fade away with every blink of his eyes. Slowly the man that was coming forward was becoming all too aware of his surroundings. The crackling of the fire that had been started in the building with the spark from metal on metal. The deafening scream of the alarms. 

Rusted.

Soon the feeling of blood made him look down. Red was staining the metal arm. It ran over the lines and joints. Blue eyes still mixed with the eyes of the Winter Soldier moved to search for the source of the blood. The face of the man he didn’t want to see came into view. Closed blue eyes that would hold no light to them if they opened. No. No. He could save him. He had to…

Furnace.

Bloodied hands did their best to stop the bleeding. He couldn’t let him go. Steve. He wouldn’t and he couldn’t let him go. He couldn’t let this be what separated them. How could he? He couldn’t let this happen to Steve. He needed the man more than the world needed Captain America. The world could live without Captain America but he couldn’t live without Steve. After everything they had been through together this was not how this could end. 

Daybreak.

The harsh eyes of the Winter Soldier were finally fully gone as the world came to a halt for the man coming out of the fog of a past life. The world was still rushing. Bucky was back and he had to look down at what he had done. He had to face the reality. Steve was gone. Tears stung the eyes of the one left behind. As they fell from his cheeks, he was facing the reality that this was how it happened. This is how he lost Steve. 

Seventeen.

The fog started to lift, leaving Bucky’s head swimming. His eyes looked around and saw the chaos that was surrounding them...him. He had done this. No. No the Winter Soldier had done this. Someone had brought him back into the hell that was the soldier, the machine. He was back now though. He lifted Steve into his arms, the shield falling from the limp arms of Captain America, of Steve Rogers. A loud clang sounded. Bucky clenched his jaw hearing the sound. Using his foot he kicked the shield up to his hand and laid it to rest on the chest of the fallen man in his arms. 

Benign.

Weak legs took him outside. They wouldn’t find the fallen man inside that building. Right before clearing the rubble he gave him one last kiss. There were no words for this. There was nothing he could imagine saying that would be enough to explain the feelings happening deep down. Exiting the building he put Steve down on the steps. Before the smoke cleared he had to run. Looking down at Steve he felt his heart shatter. He had gotten him back and built a family with him. They had a son. They weren’t just super heroes. They were so much more than that. They were so much more than anyone knew. One thing was very clear though. Bucky was but a ghost as the smoke cleared. He left the area in a sprint. 

Nine.

Hydra was behind this. Bucky knew that much. There was anger mixed in with the sorrow. Anger at what Hydra had done to him so long ago. Anger that they made sure that this was the mission that was completed. Before heading back to the tower he had to outrun any media that would point at him as the criminal. The Winter Soldier was not going to be forgiven twice. Sure as hell not now that he had killed America’s idol. But there was some unfinished work to be done, and he sure as hell wouldn’t leave it unfinished. Hydra would fall and it would fall for good this time. 

Homecoming.

Bucky kept going till he knew that he wasn’t being followed. As soon as that was clear he started his way back home. Back to his son. God his son. How could he break the news to Ian? Sam...This day was meant to be just a quick recon mission for the two of them. They were headed somewhere. Where? Bucky racked his brain trying to figure out where they were going to. It was just a...it was a mission. That building that he walked out of was the museum. Hydra alerts were going off there and they were sent to check it out. It wasn’t far from home and yet it felt like the farthest place possible now as he made his way back to the place he had called home, without Steve.

One.

Ian was now left with one parent. How Bucky wished he could change that fact. What had happened to Steve was coming back to him, slowly, as he made his way back home. It was like a switch was flipped. He attacked Steve and they went at it. Steve didn’t fight back. He never would. There was no time to get the words out of his mouth to stop the Winter Soldier. It was over quick. Simple. Now though, Ian was down to just him. He had no idea how to be a single parent. 

Freight Car.

Where did that leave him? He was alone in the world without his best friend and partner, the man who’d been with him since childhood. He had a son that he didn’t know how to parent alone. He was the cause of Steve’s death. While America mourned, there was still work to be done. There was a little boy at home that was watching the tragedy unfold. Then, there was Sam who was shocked just like the rest of the world. Bucky stepped into his home and watched the rest of his world start to crumble. There was no easy way to tell your son that his daddy was dead. There was no easy way to deal with the aftermath of such heartache. Bucky was lost and there was no man on the end of the line that could pick him up again. Bucky was fighting this battle alone in hope he could survive. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 25 years later...Stephen Grant Reilly, an artist and elementary art teacher meets someone so familiar yet so new to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this story, Saudade, comes from the Portuguese concept of saudade which is defined as a "deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves." Saudade is a hard word to define, but bucky_barnes481 and I both adore a musical pair called Us the Duo, whose song "Saudade" epitomizes the feelings of this concept and this song happened to come on while bucky_barnes481 was writing the prologue. We thought that "Saudade" would make a fitting title for this story. 
> 
> Right now, the updates are coming fast as muse is strong, but I will warn you that once I return to work on Monday, things are likely to slow down again.

__

25 Years Later…

__

Stephen George Reilly had spent his whole life feeling as if something was missing. Ever since he was a young child he had been having vivid dreams. Some of them, he remembered when he woke up...dreams of battles and victories….dreams of friendships and love….yet, he couldn’t understand them without context. So, he drew them, sketches of battles and faces, faces of people he didn’t know. The dreams made him feel a bit more whole, though he could never quite explain why. All he knew was that they occurred every single night, whether he recalled them or not. 

At twenty-five years old, Steve had made a name for himself in the world of underground art. He created underground comic books and even worked, uncredited, on some Captain America comics for Marvel. He wouldn’t admit it, as working for such a large corporation wasn’t a goal of his, but that had been a fun job. Somehow as he helped assemble a storyline for America’s greatest hero, he had felt a sense of belonging that he’d never felt before in this life. Then, just like that it was gone and his short gig with Marvel was complete. It was back to the world of underground comics. 

When Steve wasn’t creating underground comics, he was teaching art in a local elementary school. Art was his passion and he enjoyed sharing that with the young and impressionable minds. He enjoyed allowing the children to get creative and to learn about them in the process. 

On this particular day, Steve remained in his classroom, sipping on some coffee while he waited with the Rogers children. It seemed they had missed the bus and their grandfather had yet to show up to get them. These children were two of his favorites and he had gladly volunteered to remain with them, when they showed up to his room. They seemed to appreciate and love art, just as he did, and he loved hearing the stories of their parents heroics. 

The Rogers children reminded him of someone...though he couldn’t put his finger on who. He didn’t know if their stories of their parents as avengers were real or imagined, but he listened just the same. He also made note that their last name was that of the first Captain America, the hero who had died tragically at the hands of HYDRA and whose mantle had been taken up first by Sam Wilson, previously Falcon and then by his son, Ian, years later. He knew that Ian Rogers was the children’s father’s name, but he figured it could just as easily be a coincidence as the truth. Kids liked to tell stories and until it was proven to him that the kids’ dad was really Captain America, formerly Nomad, Steve would just entertain their stories with laughter and smiles. 

“Mr. Reilly, can we draw while we wait?” 

Steve looked up from the artwork he was grading when he heard the voice of little Grant calling to him. He smiled at his student and nodded, unlocking the drawer where the drawing paper, charcoal pencils and other materials were kept for Grant and his sister, Peggy. 

“Thank you, Mr. Reilly!” Peggy stated, jumping up to hug Steve’s waist. The teacher was always surprised when students did that and he was never quite sure how to react being socially awkward. Still, he patted her back gently and continued to smile at her. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“You know, our Dad is on a really important mission right now! He couldn’t even tell us what he was doing, but he said it was big and important. We might not see him for a few days!” Grant told Steve, excitedly, as he began to put a pencil to the paper. 

“Yeah, Grandpa is gonna pick us up ‘cause he’s taking care of us while Mama and Daddy are off on this mission!” Peggy chimed in, scribbling on her paper, not acquiring the artistic talent of her brother. 

“He’s got Gabe too! You can probably meet our little brother!”

“Yeah! He’s still a baby so you got time before he’ll come to school but he’s really cute and he’s a really good baby!”

The name Gabe seemed to ring a bell to Steve, but as with most things he couldn’t quite figure out why. Perhaps there was a Gabe among the many faces he sketched from his dreams since childhood. Though, he supposed that Gabe was a pretty common name. Peggy and Grant, however, were not and their names had rung a bell the moment he had met the children. However, once more he had no idea why. He had no context, just a strange sense of familiarity. He was drawn to the Rogers children without knowing why. 

The children continued to draw, or in Peggy’s case scribble, until there was the sound of footsteps entering the classroom. Steve looked up just as Peggy launched herself at a man that looked so familiar to the young teacher that he swore he could feel his heart skip a beat. 

“Grandpa! Grandpa!” The two children were both screaming now, Grant having joined his sister and proudly showcasing whatever it was he had sketched. 

Steve wasn’t paying attention though. He was too busy staring at the man they called grandfather. Here was a man who looked far too young to have a second and third grader as grandkids. Here was a man with haunted eyes and a beautiful smile, two things that should never go together. Yet somehow, the man was beautiful and Steve found himself blushing. He knew that it was illogical. This man was a grandfather, someone who probably had a wife back at home and would never even pay Steve any mind. Yet, he couldn’t help the butterflies that were forming in his stomach and the fact that his heart was fluttering quicker and quicker within his chest. Something about this man demanded his attention and Steve could not put his finger on it.

“Care to introduce me to your teacher...oh and thank him for staying with you both, please.”

That voice. It sent a shiver down Steve’s spine. He recognized that voice, though he knew he’d never actually heard it before. The voice was deep and it spoke with a Brooklyn accent. Still, there was a sadness within it that seemed like it’d been there for a long time. Yet, the man smiled as his grandchildren hugged him, cradling an infant in his arms. 

“Grandpa, this is Mr. Reilly!” Peggy said, her dark curls bouncing as she pointed to Steve, leading her grandfather toward him by the hand. 

“Thank you for staying with us, Mr. Reilly!” Grant chimed in, walking alongside his sister. 

“You’re welcome. If you two want to wash your hands, I can give you my key to open the bathrooms, as long as you promise to bring it back.” Steve told them, his voice hushed as if he was sending them on an important mission. 

“Yes, please!” Peggy squealed, delighted. 

Steve moved behind his desk, taking a key out of the drawer and handing it to the girl. “Don’t lose this, it’s very important.” 

“We won’t, sir! I’ll make sure of it!” Grant said, before following his sister out of the room. 

Steve now focused on their grandfather, smiling at the man. Familiar or not, it seemed he had his hands full until the children’s parents returned with two high energy children and an infant. Though, right now it seemed that the infant was fast asleep in his arms. He doubted that would last. 

“It’s nice to meet you sir, my students call me Mr. Reilly but you can call me Steve if you’d like.” He reached out a hand to the other. 

Steve really had no idea why this man was making him blush, sweat and feel generally drawn to him…but he knew better than to fight those feelings. He just had to try to mask them and remain professional here. 


	3. Chapter 3 -- Bucky's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We see things from the man himself and learn a few things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the point of view is going to change each chapter. It will go through from one side to the other and see where it goes from there. It should be labeled who's view the chapter is in so no confusion we hope.

A metal hand ran through the long dark locks before the headphones were placed over the ears. In front of him was the book he had written about different parts of his life. Some of this book was written during the darkest and coldest points of life, while others were written when there was sun shining with warmth spreading over him. The book was simply titled, Saudade. It was a word that held so much meaning to him now that he had grown to understand it. So much time had gone by since the day he’d lost Steve that now he fully understood the meaning behind the word saudade, a word there was no true English translation for. Still, he understood it now, the feeling of longing and nostalgia. He understood the desire to have back what was lost and to mourn the memories that would not happen due to loss. That was why he was here now. Sitting in the recording studio to record an audiobook version of the book he had written. It was more than he ever thought would come of this. 

With the book open to where he last left off, he sighed. It was shortly after the mission that led to the death of his husband and soulmate. This part of the story traced the years after the death of the one and only Steve Rogers. It was hard to even admit that the man was gone, let alone write about it. But after a few years, he had people come to him and want to know the story that their dear Cap never told. Their story and the story of their life together. Who knew Steven Grant Rogers better? No one alive. It fell into the hands of the man left behind, the one and only Bucky Rogers, or better known as Bucky Barnes. 

“Ready when you are, Mr. Rogers!” the loud excitable voice of the producer rang through the headphones. He hated being called that but no matter how many times he asked to be referred to as Bucky it never happened. One would think at nearly 150 years old he’d have gained that but no. 

Scanning the book he found the spot he left off at. “Ian and I we learned to cope. It was the only thing left to do after that. There was grief and there was coping. How do you even begin to pick up the pieces that were left behind? The truth was I didn’t know and even to this day it is hard to fathom that we coped and moved on...but that it is exactly what we did. We weren’t alone of course, we had Sam and the rest of the Avengers, but it was hard to just get up and move some days. Steve was our world, he had brought our little family together and with him missing it was hard to just keep going.” Bucky paused in his reading to wipe away the water that was starting to pool in his eyes. 

It was hard to even read it now, but he knew this had to be done. “It took years to even feel relatively normal about life. I believe Ian was about eight or nine when he asked me what happened that day. How do you explain to your child that you were the one who had caused him trauma? Now by this time I had been forgiven and it was decided that I had to be deprogrammed as it were. Ian and I spent a good few years with T’Challa in his homeland. He and the doctors there were able to erase the trigger words that Hydra had placed. It was there it was determined that the Winter Soldier and I were two different people. Two people who shared a body. One was fueled by rage and was trying to hard to protect the other, me. He was only being used, but his intent was to protect me.” Bucky would go on to explain that in their time with T’Challa in his home, they learned just what had happened all those years ago. He explained how, though the soldier was dangerous his goal was to protect Bucky. It wasn’t his fault he was used and taught that the biggest threat to him was someone Bucky cared about. Over the years Bucky had learned to forgive and accept the soldier in his head. He remembered what the other had done and now the link was formed between them both. With no trigger words the soldier, affectionately named Ghost, resided calmly until danger posed a threat. For once the two people that were Bucky and the Winter Solider were at peace with one another and working as one. “...now that isn’t to say Ghost and I completely understand each other. He still doesn’t understand children or how to play pretend. But now that we know what happened and that he is a fragment that my brain created it is easier to understand and help him. He doesn’t come out often now, just when my own PTSD gets the best of me. He misses Steve just as I do. No one tried to help until Steve and to that we owe him our lives.” 

Hours would go by as Bucky read his book into the microphone. He paused a few times to drink water or redo what he had just said. Hours of talking and remembering were always hard and in that he forgot his other task of the day.

Right as he wrapped up a chapter he got a text from his son. Looking at the time he cursed under his breath. He was going to be late picking up the kids from school. Thankfully his youngest grandson was still happily asleep in his car seat off to the side. “Have to wrap this up now, I’m going to be late picking up my grandkids from school.” Pulling the headphones off his head he placed them on the mic stand that hung down. Gathering Gabe up he headed out to the car, which just so happened to be his son’s minivan. The argument to get one had been long but Bucky had won this argument, with the help of Ian’s wife. 

The struggle getting the car seat back into the car was the real deal. No matter how many times he had done this he always failed getting it to snap in right the first two times. That was just how it was. Once in, he could head off to pick up the grandkids from school. His little Grant and Peggy. Gabe may have been named after a man he knew but that had not been the only reason for his name. His name was something his daughter-in-law had connected with as well. 

After getting to the school he got little Gabe out and held the sleeping infant close. Tugging the blanket up towards the baby’s chin he headed into the building. He was late. Not by too much thankfully but he was still late in picking them up. 

The halls were rather empty, which he expected as he made his way through the building. The principal gave him directions to the art room where the Rogers children were.

As soon as he entered he was met with his granddaughter first, followed by Grant. A smile formed as he hugged Peggy with his free arm, then again as Grant showed him his art work. He hushed the duo so that they wouldn’t wake the infant in his arms.

Looking up he was met with a face that had haunted him in his dreams for twenty five years now. Those eyes were so familiar to him, though they missed the kicked puppy look he remembered. It had been such a long time since he had seen that face he almost didn’t believe it. Perhaps it was just his imagination. He had been talking about the man all day, he was missing him...surely that was the case. 

“Care to introduce me to your teacher...oh and thank him for staying with you both, please.” he spoke softly to the oldest grandchildren.

Watching the interaction between the teacher and his grandchildren made Bucky smile. Still, he couldn’t help but feel drawn toward the teacher. In a way he looked like a love long past, but how could that be? How could he be here now? Bucky wasn’t sure but he knew those eyes. It had been a long time but he knew those blue eyes. He’d know them anywhere. No matter how long they had been apart, he’d know. Always. 

With a smile he used the metal arm to shake the other’s offered hand. His name was Steve. Spooky was the only word that came to mind for that. Could he really be him? Or well his soul at least. Bucky didn’t fully understand reincarnation himself but could it be his Stevie? Or was his mind just messing with him? 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Mr. Rogers, but you can call me Bucky.” he offered the other a smile though it still never quite reached his eyes. He did notice the pink blush forming on the other’s cheeks though. Good to know he still had his looks about him. Steve here wasn’t the first person to have that reaction when meeting him, but so far he was the only one that was screaming he loved him. “Thank you again for keeping them. I got a little lost in time with my work before coming here.” 

There was something Bucky couldn’t shake about this man. Something was pulling him in a way he hadn’t felt for a very long time. The feeling of being drawn to the man was hard to ignore but still, could it just be his imagination drawing him to him? He couldn’t tell just yet. 

It was Bucky who would break the ice. “I used to know a Steve. I called him Stevie actually. You remind me of him a bit.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve becomes overwhelmed by the realization that he is not only teaching the children of heroes, but that he his dreams are memories that he cannot quite understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with us and continuing to read! We are really enjoying writing this.

As the other man spoke, Steve found that he was no longer paying attention. The moment his hand connected with the metal hand of the other, he felt an even heavier pull toward the man before him and he could not stop himself from closing his eyes. Something about this was so incredibly familiar and yet it didn’t make sense. Memories of a life he never lived were flowing through his head, memories of his dreams. This man was in his dreams since he was a child. His blue eyes had haunted Steve for his entire life, though he never knew why. Could it have all primed him for this meeting? But why? It didn’t make sense to Steve, at least not yet. Who was this man and why did he seem so important, when Steve didn’t think they’d met before. 

“It is nice to meet you, Mr. Rogers...Bucky...you have some pretty amazing grandkids.” Steve opened his eyes as he spoke, looking up and into the taller man’s familiar, warm blue eyes. The way the name Bucky fell from his lips seemed natural and that too felt strange to Steve. 

“Really? I...I don’t really have many friends….but if I did, I guess they’d call me Stevie.” His grandparents, the ones who raised him, had called him Stevie but he had lost them recently and didn’t really want to think about that or bring that up. Honestly, Steve wasn’t kidding when he spoke of having no true friends. He spent most of his free time drawing or painting in his apartment. He wasn’t the most social person and because of it, his social circle was limited to those he interacted with when selling his art or others at this school. He was mainly referred to as Mr. Reilly in both those instances, so the nickname Stevie hadn’t been used since his grandparents passed. 

“I have to ask...have we possibly met before? I mean….you said I remind you of your friend but….you look familiar to me too and I can’t seem to figure out why.” 

That was a lie. He knew why Bucky looked familiar. He recalled his dreams vividly. Hell, he had sketchpads dedicated to them, specifically. However, he had never thought that his dreams could be based in reality. He’d never seen anyone from his dreams. Until now. Honestly, it was freaking Steve out a bit. Still, he was too curious to leave. He wanted to know more about Bucky. He wanted to know if maybe they’d met when he was a kid and that was the reason for his dreams. 

Just as it seemed Steve was going to get an answer, the kids came running back into the classroom. 

“Grandpa, are Daddy and Mama comin’ home tonight?” Peggy was, by far the more energetic of the two children and Steve watched as she ran over to Bucky, practically climbing on his leg as she asked him the question. Grant ran in, but he slowed down once in the classroom and it wasn’t until Grant placed the key in Steve’s hand that the teacher even recalled that he’d leant the children his keys. 

“Not tonight, it’s still just us tonight.” 

“Is it….are their parents really Captain America and Iron Maiden?” The words were out of Steve’s mouth before he could think about it. He didn’t want the kids thinking that he was doubting them, but he was genuinely curious to know if he was meeting the children of the legendary American hero. Plus, he didn’t want to stand there awkwardly and leave questions lingering. Familiar or not, Steve was curious and while he hadn’t questioned the metal arm he shook….he did have to know if the children’s stories were true.

“They are.” 

Bucky’s answer was simple but it left Steve nodding in shock. So, the kids were telling the truth. He had been teaching the children of the very hero whose comics he had briefly gotten to work on. 

“Do I really remind you of him...I mean, the Steve you were talking about...that has to be Steve Rogers then, the original Captain America...I remind you of him?”

That is where Steve’s mind went upon Bucky’s answer. There was so much to process and yet he returned to the fact that Bucky, who he now knew had to be THE Bucky, the Winter Soldier who had fought and married Steve Rogers, had mentioned how HE reminded him of STEVE. That, to him, meant Steve Rogers. Captain America. He didn’t quite understand how he, a awkward, nerdy artist and teacher could ever compare to Captain America but he could not lie and say he wasn’t curious. He was especially curious because now his dreams were starting to make sense...yet he still didn’t understand why he had them and what they meant. Not truly.

Once again, the children interrupted them before Bucky could answer him. 

“Grandpa, I’m hungry...are we gonna go home now?” 

“I’m hungry too!” 

Steve sighed. He was starting to think he’d never get his questions answered. Just the same, he was honestly beginning to feel a little bit overwhelmed. How is it that Bucky was so familiar to him? Why was he drawn to the man? Hell, how did he even end up here...teaching Captain America’s children without even knowing it?

“You know...I should uh….I should probably get going anyway. It’s getting late and uh...my dog is probably waiting for me to get home and feed him…” That sounded like a lame excuse, even to him, but he didn’t know what else to do. He wanted answers, but the kids were here and it seemed every single time he asked a question...it never got answered due to the children. He couldn’t blame them, it isn’t as if they knew what was going on or running through their teacher’s head. Still, Steve felt the desire to run, to get out before things got to be too much. He needed to think and process. 

This time, it was Steve who left no time to react. He was already packing his things up, ready to leave for the evening. He needed to go home to think. He needed to sort out all these strange emotions he was feeling. He needed to look at the sketchpad that contained his dreams. 


End file.
